


Pacemaker

by TheBasilRathbone



Series: Pacemaker [1]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Blind Date, Confessions, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Staying Up All Night Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBasilRathbone/pseuds/TheBasilRathbone
Summary: Alternate First Meeting - If Hardy had never taken the job in Broadchurch in the first place.Hardy's daughter sets him up on a date through an app, and it goes terribly wrong. By a stroke of luck, Miller happens to be there to witness it, and comes to his rescue. What should have been a casual encounter ends up with far more significant results.
Relationships: Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Series: Pacemaker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652722
Comments: 33
Kudos: 251





	Pacemaker

Ellie Miller never goes to the pub.

Certainly not alone.

She used to, of course. In uni with friends, or parents’ night out with Joe and some of the other mums and dads from Tom’s football team or school. But that’s been more than a few years, at this point. She’s still, to so many in Broadchurch, the murderer’s wife, and that’s generally viewed as a bit of a downer. Not to mention her place in the police force, so…she doesn’t get much for invitations, any more.

And she never went alone, before tonight. She wasn’t sure what made her stop in, exactly. She was far enough away from home, perhaps, that it felt safe. The witness interview she’d driven all the way up here for was a success, which put her in a cheerful mood. She could have a drink without any town gossip about whether or not she was depressed, that the grief was driving her to the drink, that maybe she had a problem.

It wasn’t even a good pub. It was one of those posh places, with a huge bar with gleaming brass knobs that did fuck all that was shoved out into the centre of the room and a smooth granite countertop that wrapped all the way around. The lighting was low and blue-tinted, with some generic-sounding jazz that was playing somehow too loudly and too quietly all at once.

She was too old for this place. Too old and too out-of-touch and too…matronly. Fuck. She’d just wanted a pint, not an introspective crisis.

It was easier to focus on the other drinkers. Mostly young groups or couples, but a few loners like her. A young man on a laptop with headphones in (honestly, at a bloody _pub_ ) with a patchy little tuft of hair on his upper lip, a woman who looked to be in her late thirties who had arrived at twenty minutes to the hour with a scowl and had been throwing back drinks ever since, and a man far too old and sad looking to be at such a trendy place, who kept checking his watch as though he had someplace to be. Christ, everyone was probably looking at her and counting her among the pathetic crowd, weren’t they?

Pint nearly through, she was about to pack it in when a man walked through the door. A few years older than her, maybe. Tall and spindly. In a well-tailored suit when everyone around them was wearing stupid little knitted caps and ankle-rolled denim.

He was…handsome, in a shaggy, disheveled sort of way. Sharp features, an agitated energy. She did have a thing for tall and lanky, not to mention a track record, though she tried hard not to think about Joe these days.

He looked alarmingly uncomfortable to be there, eyes darting about the room nervously like a guilty perp in a questioning. Ellie watched as he hesitantly approached the bar, coming up behind the scowly woman nursing yet another glass of white wine.

“Uh,” he said, and Ellie watched the woman spin around, her scowl growing even…scowlier as she looked him up and down.

“Oh Christ,” she drawled, easily heard over the loud-quiet music. She made some dramatic gesture, her long pointy fingernails flapping about in the air. “ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re Alex Hardy from the app. Couldn’t even be bothered to fucking shave for a first date?”

Ellie winced. This was exactly why she avoided dates like the plague. Sure, it was easy enough while you were young and thin and carefree. It became a hell of a lot harder when this kind of rejection was lurking behind every corner.

The poor man was so stunned, it took an impressive amount of time before the familiar expressions of shame and humiliation passed over his face. He looked utterly wrecked.

“Right, uh…”

Aw, fuck it. “Mark?” Ellie chirped over the pub music, pretending she didn’t just watch a man get torn to shreds in front of her eyes. Both the bitchy-faced woman and ‘Alex’ turned to look. “Honestly, Mark. A bit of low-lighting and you think every brunette is me from behind. And yet you still refuse to wear your glasses.” She plastered an exaggerated smile on her face, rolling her eyes at The Bitch like they were mates. “Almost grabbed my mum’s arse the other day, ‘fore he realized it wasn’t me.”

It’s quite a backstory, and she was pleased with herself to have made it up on the fly. But both of them just stared at her, slack-jawed, and she was forced to pointedly slap the barstool beside her.

“Mark, Love. Sit down. You’re late. I’m already two drinks in, you’ve got some catching up to do.”

The bitchy woman glanced between them, slowly turning a violent shade of red. Good, she should be embarrassed. Served her right, the arsehole, for being so horribly rude. She tried to stutter out an apology, but the man was already slinking away, passing behind Ellie and taking a seat where she’d gestured. She got a whiff of his cologne as he shuffled by. Cologne and a nice suit on a date, what Ellie wouldn’t give.

“Thanks,” he muttered, hanging his head miserably in a way that gave her a pang of sympathy.

“Don’t mention it. A right cunt, that one. Best to find out before you wasted any time on ‘er.” Ellie waited until the bartender turned to face her, bloody 360 degree bar, before waving him over. She ordered another pint and turned to her new companion expectantly.

“Scotch,” he said in a tone that was near-pleading. “Big, big scotch. Double. Triple. Biggest you can legally serve.”

“Shouldn’t be long now ‘fore she thinks she’s been stood up and scurries home. Oughta knock ‘er down a few pegs. Then you can leave with your dignity intact.”

“Too late,” the man grunted.

They couldn’t really shake hands, not when she called out to him like they know one another, so they’re forced to sit in an awkward silence for far too long. Not much of a conversationalist, then, even for someone who rescued his ego.

“‘m Ellie, by the way,” she said. “Yours was Alex?”

“Alec,” he correct with a grunt, accepting the scotch from the barman and taking a long sip.

“Alec,” she repeated, gulping down her pint. Christ, he was a misery, and now she was stuck here for as long as the woman would hold out hope for her date to arrive. Not exactly the night she wanted, after an excruciatingly long work week. But she could hardly leave the poor man now.

“You from around here?”

“Do you usually drive to a diff'rent town for a date?” He grumbled, burying his nose into his scotch. She’d take that as a yes, apparently.

“No, but some people might. I dunno. Hope it’s not a small town like mine. If this happened in my local pub, everyone’d know by tomorrow morning.”

She’d said it like a joke, but he barely acknowledged her presence, just grunting in response. Ellie huffed.

“You’re a Scot.”

He gave her a side-eyed look. “I’m aware.”

She rolled her eyes. “I _meant_ you’re not from here originally, given the accent. When did you move here?”

“Why are _you_ here, if you like yer little hometown so much?”

“Working,” Ellie replied, eyeing the menu written on a bloody chalkboard above the bar. Alec the Scotsman only grumbled again in acknowledgement, finishing off his drink and trying to flag the barman down.

“You divorced, then? Got any kids?”

“Bloody hell,” he cried. “Why d'you ask so many questions?”

“Why do you answer every question with another question?” She fired back. “Knobhead. No wonder you’re single.”

“Says the lass drinkin' alone at the bar. Don’ see you here on a hot date tonight.”

“I stopped by for a drink after work! It’s not a crime to be friendly. And unlike you and your app-date, I’m content to be alone. Not to mention I just saved your arse from public humiliation.” And then, for good measure, “Knobhead.”

Alec only grunted. They drank for a long time in silence, watching the bitchy brunette throw back even more drinks. Ellie wondered if she’d even notice if her ‘date’ didn’t show.

“Yer right,” he grumbled at last, swirling the scotch in his drink.

“Mm?”

“Should be…thankin’ you. Already did, by the way.” Ellie rolled his eyes. “Jus’...obviously i’s been a shit night, cut me some slack.”

The alcohol had evidently softened him, it’s the most he’d said all night.

“Yeah, alright,” she agreed. “Just saying, haven’t had an easy go of it myself and you don’t see me being a knobhead to everyone.”

“D’you have any other insults besides ‘knobhead?’ He asked, half disgruntled and half amused.

“Do you ever act like a decent human being instead of a total knobhead?” she snapped back, raising an eyebrow as she took a swig of her pint.

“A daughter.”

“Mm?”

Alec sighed. “You asked me if I had kids. I got a daughter. Fourteen, now.”

“Ugh, teenagers,” she groaned. “My oldest’s thirteen. He’s a little shit, most of the time. But I guess I have to love him.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Oldest? How many you got?”

“Two. Two boys. Little one is four. Love my boys, but think I would have liked a daughter.”

“Yeah, she’s…she’s good. ‘cept she set me up on this date, tonight. Signed me up for some datin' thing on my phone. Ach.”

“That’s sweet. No, really, it is. Don’t think my boys notice if I’m coming or going. She wants you to be happy, obviously. I think it’s sweet.”

“It’s meddlin’, is wha' it is.” He took a pointed sip of his drink, though he looked rather pleased just talking about his daughter. It’s the happiest she’s seen him all night. Rather sweet, really. “She told me not to wear the suit, that was my first mistake. Too formal.”

“Oh, I like the suit,” Ellie soothed, patting his shoulder in a way she never would have attempted if had she been sober all night. “Beard is a bit messy, though.”

Alec sighed, reaching up to scratch his nails against the thick patch of hair. “Forgot to shave. Forget it’s there most of the time, to be honest. Easier to jus' let it be.”

“Not if you plan on dating bitchy women.”

“Don’ plan on dating anyone, don’t think. Clearly it hasn’' gone well.

Ellie sank a bit further into her chair, feeling a bit glum at the thought of her own loneliness, never overwhelming but always lingering there in the back of her mind. “You never answered my question. Are you divorced?”

“Are you?” She glared at him, but he only shrugged. “Yer the one askin’ all the questions. My turn.”

She sighed. “Yes. Divorced. Few years now. Pretty…traumatic.”

He made a noise of agreement. “Traumatic is right.”

“Oh, I bet mine’s worse.”

He raised a brow. “Yer bettin’ that yer divorce story is worse than my divorce story?”

“You don’t want to hear my story. You hear my story, and I promise you, you’ll be making your excuses and running out the door fast as you can.”

Alec snorted. “‘m not scared off so easily.”

Ellie sighed. “Alright. Loser buys chips to share. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He straightened, looking quite determined now as he leaned back in his chair. “Alright, deal. Married to Tess for more than a decade. Worked together, lived together. Had a daughter together. Don’t even know how long to this day it was goin’ on, but she was shaggin’ our mutual co-worker.”

Ellie made a noise of sympathy, but he shook his head.

“Not done. Found out about the affair because… somethin’ happened at work, a huge mistake, tha' ended up with the two of them bein’ caught.”

“So all of your co-workers found out? Oh, Alec-”

“Shut up, still not done,” he scolded. “Best part is, this…thing that happened at work. Bad, bad thing. If she admitted to it, it would have…it all would have come out and our daughter would’ve found out about the affair. About her mother fucking Dave from work. So I took the blame for it, said it happened under my watch. Job went up in flames, marriage went up in flames. Jus’ like that.”

“Christ,” Ellie breathed. “Your wife was cheating on you and you threw yourself under the bus to protect your daughter? You must be a saint. Grumpiest saint I’ve ever met, but honestly.”

He waved her away dismissively. “So, you buyin’ chips?”

Ellie snorted. “Not a chance.” It occurred to her then that she’d never told anyone this story. Never had to, everyone knew, whether she liked it or not. She wasn’t entirely sure how to start. “My husband murdered a boy same age as our son and kept it hidden for more than a year. Shared a bed with my best friend’s son’s killer. Oh, and I was the DI in charge of the homicide investigation.”

“Oh, fuck,” he blurted. She saw the familiar eyes-widening, the slack-jawed expression, and waited for the uncomfortable squirming.

Ellie cleared her throat. “People thought I was covering up for him. I wasn’t, I would never…what he did was despicable, and I hope he rots in jail the rest of his life. But. Rumours happen, ‘specially in small towns. Some people there probably still think I covered it up. Everyone hated me for a long, long time. Got demoted back to DS. Work said they believed me, believed that I didn’t know, but it didn’t look good. Wife of a murderer, rumoured accomplice, in charge of a bunch of coppers.”

“Fuck me,” Alec drawled. “You’re Eleanor Miller from Broadchurch.”

She wrinkled her nose. She’d been ‘Eleanor Miller’ to the press, along with a horrific image of her ID badge photo, somehow making her look gaunt and double-chinned all at once. Eleanor Miller. Forever stained by her given name and her husband’s name, two things she despised. “Ellie. I hate ‘Eleanor.’”

“Yeah, course. ‘Cause the name ‘Eleanor’ is the tragic part o' tha' story.”

Ellie should be enraged by that comment, the off-handed way that he just brushed off her deepest, darkest, most horrific years, an incident she didn’t even have the luxury of calling a dirty secret because everyone knew. But that he could even manage a joke instead of just a horrified expression somehow was endearing, though perhaps that was the beer.

“Fuck me,” Alec repeated, then turned his gaze forward to wave down the barman. “Chips are on me, you win by a mile.”

* * *

It caught her eye two hours in. “You’re gonna lose your receipt.”

“My wha'?”

She huffed, just reaching out to tug the scrap of paper poking out from his jacket pocket, waving it in his face.

“Oi! Give it here.”

“What it is?” She held it away from his reach, somehow despite his spindly arms, squinting as he tried to grab it from her grasp. “Is this…is this a hospital bracelet? Were you in hospital?”

“Give it here, Miller.”

“It’s yours, it has your name on it. Oh my God, this was from yesterday? Why were you in hospital yesterday?”

“Jus'-“ He leaned over the bar and snatched it from her hands, rising from his seat enough to stuff it unceremoniously into his trouser pocket. “Let it be.”

“Are you okay?”

He groaned. “Don’t you ever shut up?” As though to prove a point, she didn’t say anything, just raised a brow. “S'nothing. Just a…heart…thing.”

“A heart thing,” Ellie repeated. “No, right. Nothing. Thank Christ it’s not one of those important organs, or anything.”

“I have a…heart arrhythmia. Heart rate went up too high and I passed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated, ignoring his attempts to wave her away. “Are you alright? Can’t they do anything?”

“Pacemaker,” he mumbled into his drink. “But they’re not sure I’ll survive the surgery, so.”

“Alec!” she cried. “You have a daughter! She needs you.”

“Nah, she don’t. Doin’ just fine without me.”

Ellie turned in her chair to look at him full-on. He avoided her gaze, but she stared and stared until he gave in with an irritated sigh and turned. “Wha'?”

“You need to get the surgery.”

“You a doctor, now?”

“I know enough to know you need to get the surgery.” She ignored his grumbling and attempts to wave her away. “Because if you die, no listen to me. Because if you die, you should do it after having a chance to say goodbye to your daughter when you’re going into surgery instead of just…falling down dead on the side of the street someday. How d’you think she’d feel, hearing that? Least she can brace herself for it. And then if you pull through, you pull through and live a long life.”

She’d gotten him where it hurt, she knew. Mention his kids, that’ll get him. He gave a sort of rumbling sound, scratching at his beard. “I’ll think about it, ae? Jus'…shut up about it, now. You’ve said yer piece.”

She grinned, leaning over him to slide the tray of chips back towards her, shoving a few into her mouth. She’d been the only one eating them, and she’d had to nag at him several times before he gave in just to shut her up and ate one.

He gave her a disgusted look, though there was no venom behind it. His eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder, and he nodded his head. “She’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“My…date,” Alec said, motioning behind her. Sure enough, her barstool was empty, and her many empty glasses had been cleared away from the tabletop. “How long she been gone?”

“How should I know?” Ellie shrugged, settling back into her chair.

* * *

The burst of pain that came with the lights snapping on made them both recoil, groaning in pain.

“Closing time,” the barman called, waiting expectedly in front of them. Ellie went for her purse, but Alec waved her off, actually sticking out an arm to prevent her from paying.

“No, I got it. Jus’…let me. Would you jus’ lemme pay, woman? Jesus Christ.”

She huffed, but stuck her wallet back into her purse, mumbling a thank you. They pulled back on their heavy jackets and shuffled outside, shuddering as the howling wind dove under the collars of their coats. Alec lifted his shoulders to his ears as if trying to block the cold. Not an easy feat, given his long, slender neck.

“Walk you to your car?” He offered, and she nodded in agreement, ducking along beside him in the hopes that he would block the wind.

“Not much,” she said when they stopped in front of her rather ancient vehicle.

Alec shrugged. “S’long as it runs. You goin’ all the way home at this time o' night? You’ve had some to drink, you alright to drive?”

He was tense as usual, hands shoved into his pockets, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as though trying to warm himself.

She wants to say that yes, she was under the legal limit and the food had helped, but couldn’t quite get the words to come out. Tom was looking after Fred for the night, she hadn’t known when she’d be back. “Oh, I dunno. Guess I should maybe think about getting a room nearby. Anywhere good around here?”

“You could always…” he trailed off, taking a slow step forward, so bloody slowly that she started to feel busy.

“Mm?”

“Ellie.” She tilted her head up, and that’s all it took. There was no dramatic lunge forward, grabbing and tearing at clothing. He slipped his long fingers around the base of her jaw and pulled her forward, kissing her slowly. It was a slow lean backwards, so gentle she didn’t realize it had happened until she was pressed up against the side of her car. “…my place isn’t far,” he murmured, turning her face in his large hands so he could press his nose against the side of her neck.

“Your car?”

“I walked.”

It was too cold for that now, so they piled into her little sedan. “Aw! Fuck.” He rose from the passenger seat to produce one of Fred’s children’s markers, one of the chemically scented ones with a picture of a smiling strawberry on the cap. It was cracked, now, from where he’d unexpectedly sat on it, wilted over like an injured flower.

“Be glad it wasn’t a lego.”

He grunted in agreement, tossing the marker into the cup holder and wiping his hands on his trousers.

“If you get ink on my seats, I’ll kick you out right here.”

“S’fine. Says ‘washable’ right here on the side.”

“Tell that you my walls. That marker's a bloody liar.”

He smirked at her, though they quickly fell into an uneasy silence. “S’pose we shouldn’t take that as a...bad omen? Warnin’ sign?”

She scoffed. “I’m about to go home with a strange man I’ve never met, I’ve already thrown common sense to the wind.”

There was no arguing with that.

They sat apart, not touching but nearly vibrating the whole ride back. He gave her a few clipped directions, and soon they were pulling up next to a quaint but slightly shabby little place at the very end of a long, narrow path. 

“S’not much,” he repeated, but Ellie shrugged.

“Quiet. Private.”

He led the way, hands trembling as he unlocked the front door, stepping aside to usher her in. The second the door closed behind them, Ellie pushed forward, pressing him against the door and tugging him down for a heady kiss.

They’re not really the desperate, fumbling through doors, slamming into walls type, but he does walk her awkwardly backwards towards the bedroom, lips never unravelling from each other, pressing his palms against either side of the walls of the narrow hallway to keep them steady.

“Christ, Ellie,” he breathed as he moved her back towards the bed. They went for each other’s buttons, Ellie shoving his jacket off of his shoulders and then going for his trousers.

“Should have done this on the way here, we’d be naked already,” she said, more of an exhale than a laugh.

“Then we’d feel like we’d have to do it against the wall in the hallway, and I’m too fuckin’ old for tha'.”

“Mattress it is,” she agreed, tumbling backwards onto the bed and pulling him down with her.

* * *

“M'sorry,” he panted, hand to his chest. They lay next to one another, gasping for air, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s…s'been a long time, I-“

“Don’t apologize. It was still bloody good,” she reassured. Not quite what she was hoping for, but after he’d gasped out on top of her and the guilt had set in, he’d muttered a few curse words before diving between her thighs, throwing her legs over his shoulders. She certainly couldn’t complain. She’d had far, far worse sex. Turning onto her side to face him, she reached out to lay her hand over his heart. “Christ, are you alright? Your heart, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Do not bring up my heart. I’m fine. Didn’ die on top o’ you, did I?” He dragged her in by her forearms, kissing her between ragged inhalations.

Should casual sex not be awkward, she thought. Ellie wasn’t complaining, certainly, but the limited experience she had suggested that she should be clearing her throat to break the uncomfortable silence and making an excuse to exit, not…this. Surely it couldn’t be this easy.

“It was alright, wasn’ it? I know it wasn’…you know…”

“It was good. Really good,” she reassured him, brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He did seem comforted by that, and relaxed a bit, though his arms still wrapped tightly around her, holding her close. “How…how long has it been, exactly?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. “You really askin’ me tha’ now?”

“I’m just curious,” she replied with a huff. “C’mon then, you said it had been a while. We’ve already talked about all sorts of things, bit late to be shy now.”

Glancing down at their naked bodies, he sighed. Hard to argue with that. “Last time was…with my wife. Ex-wife. Tha’s been a few years now.”

“Years?!” she repeated. “My God. Will-power of steel, you’ve got.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, looking sheepish. “Make your jokes.”

“I’m not, honestly. Don’t you ever get…lonely? Don’t know if I could ever trust a man again to be in a relationship, after what my husband did, but…even I go out a bit. Probably the only reason I don’t do it more is because I don’t want to be seen about town as a slag. Murderer’s wife is bad enough.”

He hummed in sympathy, tracing his long fingers up and down her spine. “Tha’s bullshit. Nobody’d be battin’ an eye if I was sleepin’ with half the town.”

There’s nothing put-on about his disgruntlement, and she finds it oddly charming. A middle-aged copper being genuinely distressed by the injustices of the world was something she found was rare. It was so easy to get desensitized to the horrors of the world when you were dealing with them every day. A fellow detective had asked a local girl if she’d been wearing the same short skirt the night of her attempted assault as she did to the police interview, and Ellie had nearly torn his head off.

She didn’t care why bad people did bad things, only that they were bad and were caught and were punished. But in their short time together discussing their jobs, Alec seemed torn up by it, tormented by the sick minds that committed violent crimes.

Ellie could only smile softly at him, lifting her head from his chest to kiss him gently. He hummed against her lips, distracted from his dark thoughts, and she reached up to smooth his furrowed brow with the pad of her thumb.

The sharp blast of an alarm cuts through the quiet, startling them both out of the tender moment. He grunted and released her, thrusting his arm out to fumble with the clock until the sound dies. “Fuckin’ hell. Sorry, was workin’ god awful hours this past week, forgot to turn off the alarm.”

“S’fine,” Ellie replied, sitting up and pulling the sheets further up to cover her chest, the shock of the clock and the cold from the absence of his body seeping in. “Should I…Maybe I should…Your daughter, will she…?”

“She lives with 'er mum,” he replied softly, and she can see him downright deflate to acknowledge it. “She won’ be home tonight. So you can…stay. If you like.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, frozen by the decision in front of her.

“You…wouldn’t mind, then?”

Slowly, he extended his arm outwards across the pillow, his fingertips just brushing the edge of her hip.

“No. No, I wouldn’ mind.”

* * *

“Is this scar from the chicken pox?” She asked, brushing her finger over the small pock mark above his navel. He let out a shuddering breath.

“You sure do ask a lot o’ questions, don’ you?”

“You sure hate to answer them,” she fired back. They’d alternated between bickering, soft conversation, and having sex. It had been a long time since she’d had such a wild range of emotions in such a short time, and even when she was angry with him she was torn between storming out and snogging him senseless just to clench his bottom lip between her teeth. Then again, if the first time had been short-lived, he’d made up for it every time after. She tapped his navel, hard, and he grunted. “Chicken pox?”

“Ae,” he sighed, raising his head slightly so he could look down at her. Absentmindedly, his hand slid down his body to brush the scar. “When I was a wee lad. Sister got it at school, and my mum fed us both with the same spoon, saying it was best to get it done and over with while we were young. ‘Cept I got it much, much worse. Miserable sod for weeks, I was. Had to tape oven mitts to my hands to keep from scratchin’.”

Ellie made a sympathetic sound. “We had to do that to Tom when he was little, poor little thing.” She winced a bit at the ‘we’ that tumbled out of her mouth. We. Me and my murdering husband. Five years after Joe was rubbing calamine lotion on their son’s little body, he was using those same hands to touch and strangle Tom’s friend. She fought down the nausea. “Fred hasn’t gotten it yet, but he’s in school now, s’only a matter of time.” She dropped her head to press her lips against the small, round scar, and he exhaled, tilting his head back against the pillows. “You have a sister?”

“Mm,” he replied softly, hand straying back down to stroke her hair. “One. And a brother. Five and seven years older.”

“I’ve a sister. Human disaster, she is. Sometimes I think the hardest part for her seein’ my marriage go up in smoke was that I couldn’t afford to keep lending her money. Lending, of course, meaning I never saw it again. Sorry. Chatting your ear off.”

“Sorry?” He repeated with a snort. “Haven' shut yer mouth since I first came in contact with you, I don’t reckon. Why stop now?”

“Wanker.”

“Not tonight, I’m not.”

They both smirked at one another, and Ellie lifted her head, resting her arms on his chest and propping up her chin. A detective through and through, his gaze turned searching, and she had the unnerving feeling that he was reading her like a book.

“How did you cope, after yer husband was…arrested? In a small town where everyone thought you covered for ‘im. Why didn’ you jus’ leave?”

Ellie shook her head. “Thought about it. Thought about it a lot, actually. But…Broadchurch was my home. Is my home. Joe ruined my life, he decimated Tom. He threw a bloody grenade into our family by doing what he did and I couldn’t…I don’t know. Running away seemed like it would be letting him win. Like it would prove that he broke us. And I wanted to be strong for my boys. Wanted to show them that they could walk through the streets with their chins up and not have to hide in shame.”

He shook his head. “Can’t say I know the feeling. After…everythin’ that happened, it jus'…seemed easier to retreatthan havin' to answer questions and be stared at. Pityin’ looks all the time, drove me mad.”

“It wasn’t any easier on me, I’ll tell you that much. But I didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t about me, it was about my boys. And they didn’t have another parent they could lean on any more. They needed me.”

"Mm." He reached down to brush his fingers through her hair, not getting far with her tangled curls. "They still do, I reckon." 

* * *

She pressed her palm against his chest as he spoke, feeling as his heart pulsed against her fingers.

“What did you do?” she asked softly, watching as his eyes fluttered closed and his breath grew ragged.

“It were deeper than I thought, I got pulled under. She’d been in there...maybe three days. Water...rots the body. She was the same age as my daughter. I can still...feel the weight of her. Water drippin’ off her clothes, all down me.” His voice broke. “What sort of person leaves a child like tha’?” He lifted his arm, the one not currently around Ellie, and pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately fighting back tears.

She slid a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and pressing her lips against his shoulder, jaw, his cheek. She could imagine him, soaking wet and coughing up water, dragging the dead girl’s water-logged corpse onto the beach, trying desperately not to think of his own daughter as a bloated, abused body. “I can’t even imagine. I can’t-it would have broken me. It would have. I would have handed in my badge that day and never looked back.”

“Couldn’t. Killer’s still out there, I had to...I had to try. Bring ‘er justice.”

“You still think about it. Her case.”

He nodded. “All the time. Every day. Sometimes when I jus’ look at Daisy. If I’m near the water. If I’m caught in the rain and I can feel the water jus' drippin' off me...”

Finally, he turned to her, both of them teary-eyed and broken-hearted. They fell together, dragging one another closer. She brought his head down onto her shoulder, letting him bury his face in the crook of his neck. He let out a long, low moan, and the agony of the sound made her gut ache.

Her arms came around him, holding him as he trembled. “You are a good man, Alec Hardy. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

* * *

His kettle was ancient, and when she pointed that fact out, he only shrugged and said, “works, doesn’ it?”

It did indeed. They waited for it to boil, arms crossed and leaning on cabinets on the opposite side of the small kitchen, feeling small and vulnerable after hours of intimacy.

He’d pulled back on his trousers, leaving his feet and chest bare. She’d taken his shirt, the buttons barely doing up over her breasts.

They waited in silence, the growl and hiss of the kettle masking the quiet.

It was an odd feeling, to have shared so much intimacy with a man who didn’t even know how she took her tea (and snorted at the amount of sugar she added).

They curled up on each end of the sofa, each mugs in hand. He looked over at her, mussed hair and dark circles under his eyes. “I s’pose this is it.”

She nodded. “Probably for the best we don’t see each other again, now that we’ve poured out our hearts. And let’s be honest, you don’t have much to begin with, in that department.”

His hand strayed to his bare chest, scratching absentmindedly at the skin above his heart. “Is tha' funny ‘cause of the arrhythmia or ‘cause I’m a bastard?”

Ellie smiled into her mug. “Either or. Both.”

With shaking hands, she reached out to lay her hand over his, over his beating heart. He slipped away and instead pressed his palm against her fingers, trapping it between his own hand and his chest. Ellie let out a trembling sigh, and they leaned together, his forehead brushing against hers. She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but when they pulled away, the sky was just starting to glow.

“Don’ want you to leave,” he murmured, eyes still peacefully closed.

“I know,” she whispered in return. But however badly it hurt, she had this moment. She would look back on this night as one utterly perfect, unbearably romantic moment, a stand-alone comfort in a sea of years of anguish and pain. To push it any further would be to ruin what they’d shared. “I need to get back.”

“Once more. Back to bed with me, one last time.”

How could she refuse?

* * *

He walked her to her car again, though it was only a few metres from his door. They’d dressed in silence, only stopping to kiss again and again, as though bracing themselves for the departure. He looked awkward there, lanky and tall, hands shoved in his pockets, feet still bare on the stone drive.

She wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she settled with, “sorry your date didn’t go well last night.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Christ, I’m not. Sort of forgot there was supposed to be another woman. Sort of forgot there’d been any other women, ‘fore you.”

Ellie sniffled. “Now you’re just being horribly sweet on purpose.”

“No one’s ever accused me o’ being tha’, I’ll tell you tha’ now.”

She gave up the pretence of a graceful, contemplative exit, instead throwing her arms around his neck once more to snog him. His hands flew out of his trouser pockets to wrap around her, squeezing her so hard she could barely catch her breath.

“Yer gonna be late.”

“Fuck!” She pulled away, blinking back tears. It shouldn’t be this hard. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know her own bloody husband, she certainly didn’t know this bloody man after one goddamned night. She knew he was rude, and brash, an absolute wanker when he couldn’t be bothered. But she also knew he was cruel to keep people at arm’s length, that he was perhaps even more sensitive than she was, that he’d been beaten down by a difficult job and a hard life and an unfaithful wife. A loveless life. It hurt her just to think about.

Climbing into her car, she nearly missed it. The small, now-crooked and cracked child’s marker hanging at an angle over the cup holder, innocent and unassuming from where he’d sat on it the night before. Ellie looked up into her rear view mirror, catching sight of Alec, hands shoved back into his pockets, body tense, leaning against the wall of his little cabin.

She swore again, thrusting the car back into park and throwing open the door.

He blinked in surprise, pushing himself off the wall as she stormed towards him. “Forget somethin’?”

“Give me your hand.”

“Wha’?”

“Gimme your hand!” She thrust out her palm, making a grabbing motion.

“Why?”

“Just give me your hand, you great bloody piece of-“

“Alright!” He cried, pulling his hand from his pocket and holding it out. “Christ Almighty, woman, jus’ shut up already!”

She took the marker and scratched a stream of digits into his palm, stepping back once she was finished to let him admire her handiwork.

“Easy to wash off, if you want to. Says ‘washable’ right on the side. Never have to look at it again.”

It didn’t take long, but a small smile appeared on his lips. “Yer gonna be late ya see off yer kids.”

“Fuck off, I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

But she turned on her heel and strode off, climbing into the car and only allowing herself a brief glance backwards as the car sped off down his long, winding drive.

* * *

By the time she’d arrived home, her father was already up and about, and she jumped in to help pack up the boys for school. Chaotic as always, it felt like a shock when they all departed and she was left alone in the quiet house. Ellie went straight to bed, collapsing onto the mattress, not minding in the moment that her suit would be a bitch to iron tomorrow.

It was only hours later, when she finally awoke, that she caught sight of the message on her phone.

**_You’re damn lucky I don’t have sweaty palms, or we’d have never seen one another again._ **


End file.
